


How About A Little More Baklava

by Lalalli



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Roommates, So many fluffies, crack!fic, genie au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9921980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalalli/pseuds/Lalalli
Summary: Fitz’s first thought is that genies wear far more leather and black eyeliner than he expected.Fitz’s second thought is, “Oh, shit.”  Because he’s read countless stories and has seen both Aladdin AND Kazaam!, and he knows this whole genie thing never turns out well.*UPDATE* Chapter 2: adventures in babysitting





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An anon on Tumblr sent me a link to the prompt:
> 
> Genie: I grant you 3 wishes. What is your first wish?  
> Me: I wish somebody loved me  
> Genie: it is done  
> Me [looking around]: ...where are they?  
> Genie: *averts eyes & starts to blush*
> 
> Except the link didn't work so I had to Google it and by the time I found it, I had a bus kids fic already half-formed in my head, so I just went with it. Sorry not sorry. I suck at following prompts.
> 
> Also, I figured as long as there's a genie and Fitzsimmons end up kissing at the end (spoiler alert?), no one really cares.

Fitz’s first thought is that genies wear far more leather and black eyeliner than he expected.

Not that he knew he had expectations for genies at all. But when Jemma accidentally knocked over the actual ugliest lamp in existence while antique shopping and Fitz reached out to catch it, and all of a sudden there was a poof! and a young woman was standing in between him and Jemma, Fitz’s immediate reaction had been, Oh. Genie. Which means that in some far corner of his mind, he held the supposition that genies at least exist.

Fitz’s second thought is, “Oh, shit.” Because he’s read countless stories and has seen both Aladdin AND Kazaam!, and he knows this whole genie thing never turns out well.

“I wish for your freedom!” he yelps frantically.

The genie raises her eyebrows in disbelief. “What?”

The owner of the store pokes her head out from behind the back storage area. “Everything alright out there?” she asks.

“We’re great!” Jemma exclaims far too enthusiastically. Jemma always covers up nerves with enthusiasm. It’s what makes her such a terrible liar and such a great test-taker.

The store owner just looks perplexed. “Is there anything I can help you with?” she asks, not quite suspicious but rapidly getting there.

The genie picks up the lamp and raises it towards the owner. “Yeah, we’d like to buy this lamp.”

\--------

As it turns out, there are A LOT of genie laws, and one of them is that if a genie’s owner wishes to set their genie free, they have to do it with their third wish.

“But why?” Jemma asks as she opens the door to the apartment that she shares with Fitz. She’s been taking this whole “genies are real” thing rather well, despite her insistence that magic does not exist. Though now that Fitz thinks about it, Jemma’s undoubtedly running through possible scientific explanations for Daisy’s tether to the ceramic Pepto-Bismol-pink lamp and matching ruffled lampshade.

Daisy shrugs. “Bureaucratic bullshit.” She sprawls out on their sofa. Now that Fitz is actually looking at her and isn’t blindly panicking anymore, he sees that the Daisy is about his and Jemma’s age, but a lot more world weary, with dark circles under her eyes (though it could just be the make-up) and frown lines at the corners of her lips. “Oh my God, you have no idea how good it feels to stretch out my limbs.”

“Is it cramped in there?” Jemma asks, poking at the lamp distrustfully. “I sort of assumed it would be like the TARDIS.”

Daisy looks at her blankly.

“You know - bigger on the inside?” Jemma supplies.

Daisy turns to look at Fitz, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What’s a TAR...tar-what was that again?”

Jemma and Fitz exchange looks of concern. “Have you never seen Doctor Who?” Jemma asks.

Daisy raises an eyebrow. “Do I look like I own a television?” she asks flatly.

Jemma and Fitz stare silently at each other for a few long moments. “Do you…?” Jemma asks.

Fitz nods gravely. “Oh, absolutely.”

\-------

“See, THIS is why I don’t want to use any wishes,” Fitz complains, gesturing towards the television screen, where Rose and her father are reconnecting amid Reaper attacks. “The unintended c-conse...conse...it would turn out bad.”

“Nah,” Daisy disagrees, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. If she notices Fitz’s stuttering, she doesn’t say anything. “I can’t bring anyone back from the dead anyways. Or go back in time. You should be fine as long as you phrase your wishes right.”

“What else can’t you do?” Jemma asks, curious.

Daisy ticks them off her fingers. “I can’t make anyone fall in love with you. I can’t make something out of nothing.”

“So the law of physics do still apply!” Jemma bounces in her seat a little and claps a little.

“I can, however, make things out of thin air, so as long as you’re not starving for oxygen, I can make pretty much whatever you want.”

Fitz’s amused half-smile falls and he looks down at his lap.  He doesn't need to look at Jemma to know that she's thinking of the same thing he is - of the time he really was starving for oxygen, and everything that came after.

Daisy must assume that the sudden lull in conversation means that Jemma and Fitz are knackered because she stands and stretches, saying, “Well, I think we're all pretty tired. Just let me know when you’re ready to redeem that first wish.”

Jemma jumps to her feet. “Where are you going?”

Daisy gestures to the lamp as though it should be obvious. “Home?”

Jemma looks slightly horrified. “You can’t go back in there!”

Daisy shakes her head slightly. “Why not?” she asks, confused.

“You spent half the night complaining about how uncomfortable it is in there,” Jemma points out. “Just sleep on our couch. I mean, I know it’s not ideal, but it’s got to be better than sleeping in a _lamp_.”

Daisy looks between Jemma and Fitz. “Are you sure?” she asks Fitz.

Fitz shrugs. “Yeah. It’s all yours.”

\-----

As Fitz struggles to think of what to wish for, Daisy makes herself comfortable in their apartment. Even though Fitz and Jemma don’t wish for anything, Daisy seems to think nothing of using her powers to make their lives easier. If Jemma opens the fridge and observes, “We’re out of milk,” a new carton will magically appear on one of the shelves. If they spend too long arguing about whether to order pizza or Chinese food, Daisy just rolls her eyes and provide them with both.

When Fitz and Jemma come home one day to find a new sofa in the living room, Daisy just shrugs and says, “This one is more comfortable.”

“Maybe you should just make yourself a new bedroom,” Fitz suggests dryly.

“You know I can’t do that,” Daisy says without taking her eyes off the television screen. She swings her arm with the Wii remote, sending the animated tennis ball flying over the net. “Not without reducing the size of the rest of your rooms.” She lets out a loud grunt as she swings again. “Maybe _you_ should just use up your wishes.”

“Fine. I wish for world peace,” Fitz snaps sarcastically.

“I know you’re just joking, but you seriously don’t want to do that,” Daisy tells him. “Seriously, last time someone did that, the entire world ended up under a single Orwellian totalitarian regime, and he had to use his third wish to undo it.”

Fitz snorts. “Yeah, I figured.”

“Just think of something small,” Daisy suggests.

“Fine, I wish for a Wii.”

Daisy grins as she bounces back and forth on her toes. “Sorry,” she says, swinging her arm again. “Retroactive wishes don’t count.”

\-----

Fitz is pretty much used to being in love with Jemma. In retrospect, it might not have been the best idea to agree to share an apartment with her, but it’s fine. He’s handling it.

And he would never wish for Jemma to fall in love with him, even if it were an option. But he would like to know if she does. Love him, that is. And the simplest way to find out would be to just _ask_ , but it’s also the most terrifying way, and he’d rather not create an uncomfortable situation. If she moves out, he’d never be able to afford the rent on his own.

Well, he could. He could wish for a winning lottery ticket or something. But it seems far less complicated to just ask Daisy. There can’t be too many harmful consequences attached to asking for information, right? After all, Daisy’s always going on about how information should be free.

“I know my first wish,” he tells Daisy one night while Jemma’s away at a conference.

“Finally!” Daisy exclaims. A bottle of champagne appears on the kitchen counter. “We should celebrate. This feels like a momentous occasion.” She pours the champagne into two flutes. “Alright,” she says, passing Fitz his flute and clinking them together. “I’m ready. Hit me with it.”

Fitz squares his shoulders back. “I wish for you to tell me if anyone is in love with me. Romantically.” He pauses. “Not for you to tell me romantically - for you to tell me if anyone is in romantic love with me. I probably should have written this out beforehand.”

“No.”

Fitz feels his heart sink into his stomach. “No?” he repeats.

Daisy slaps the back of Fitz’s head. “No! There’s no way I’m letting you waste your first wish on something you can easily figure out for yourself! I didn’t even need to use my powers to figure that one out.”

“If I could easily figure it out for myself, do you think I’d be asking you?!” Fitz protests.

The champagne disappears. “I can’t believe it took you five weeks to come up with that wish,” Daisy shouts at him. “You suck at this.”

“Are all genies this belligerent?” Fitz complains.

“I wish Jemma had rubbed the lamp,” Daisy grouses under her breath as she climbs onto a bar stool. A laptop appears in front of her on the kitchen counter and large headphones appear over her ears. “Don’t talk to me. I’m going to be on YouTube watching videos of unexpected animal friendships until I feel better.”

\-----

“What would you wish for?” Fitz asks Jemma as they eat dinner on their couch, Planet Earth playing softly in the background. With Fitz’s permission, Daisy has taken an impromptu trip to Vegas, leaving him and Jemma alone for the first time in two months.

Jemma prods distractedly at her Pad Thai. “Why are you asking me? They’re your wishes. You can’t tell me that there isn’t anything you want.”

“Daisy has vetoed all of my wishes so far,” Fitz complains. “She says they’re too dumb. She’s the worst genie ever.”

“To be fair, I’m the one who told her you’re not allowed to have a pet monkey,” Jemma admits.

“She’s my genie! Why is she listening to you?”

“Ovaries before brovaries.” After marathoning through all of Doctor Who in just two and half weeks, Daisy moved on to Parks and Rec, leading to her and Jemma creating increasingly affectionate and ridiculous nicknames for each other.

Fitz rolls his eyes. “Seriously, Jemma. I wished for her to leave the apartment so I could have a night of normalcy for a change, and she said she wanted to leave anyways, so it didn’t really count as a wish. I’m never going to get to my third wish.”

Jemma frowns. “Do you want to be rid of her that badly?”

Fitz sighs and leans back against the couch cushion. “I don’t want to be rid of her completely. I like having her around. But I would like our couch back at some point in the future. Besides, I never get to spend time with you anymore.”

Jemma wrinkles her nose. “We live together and we work together. When are we not spending time together?”

Fitz feels his face flush. He looks down at his food. “I didn’t...it’s not…” Fitz huffs. “I mean, it’s never just the two of us, you know? Like it used to be. And I like hanging out with Daisy, but I like it when we’re alone too. You’re my best friend.”

Fitz chances a look at Jemma. She seems to be flushing a little too. “Oh,” she manages. “That makes sense.” Jemma is silent for a long moment. Finally, she puts her takeaway container down on the coffee table and turns to face Fitz. “You know, when you were in the hospital and after, when you were recovering, I just...I was so angry at him. I still am, sometimes. It drives me crazy that he’s never had to take responsibility for what he did to you.  He just disappeared off the face of the Earth.”

Fitz rubs the back of his neck. “I’d rather just forget the whole thing.”

Jemma shakes her head. “I’d rather forget it too, Fitz, but I can’t. Those nine days were the longest days of my life. I was so terrified.” She pauses, then says, her voice cracking, “He needs to pay for what he did.”

Fitz looks at Jemma with concern, his eyebrows wrinkling. “So, what - you want revenge?”

Jemma’s eyes widen. “No, not revenge.” She reaches to take his hand. “Justice.”

\-----

Fitz and Jemma write it out before going to Daisy with it, just to make sure that nothing goes wrong. “I wish for Grant Ward to be safely apprehended by the proper authorities and to receive justice, either through a fair trial or the acceptance of a plea bargain, for the actions that led to me getting injured.”

Daisy’s eyes glint dangerously. “Grant Ward? Yeah, I know exactly who the proper authorities are.”

\-----

Fitz doesn’t know exactly why Daisy wants him and Jemma at the police station. He supposes she wants him to know that she’s making good on his wish. It really wasn’t necessary - he trusts Daisy to do what she says she’ll do.

Just like Daisy should have trusted that Fitz would have gone to the police station on his own if she asked him to. She didn’t have to just make Fitz and Jemma magically _appear_ there. It causes a lot of confused stares, and he shifts uncomfortably until he notices that Daisy is there, holding onto a handcuffed Ward’s arm.

Ward looks just as surprised to be there as Fitz and Jemma are. “What - Skye?” he sputters in disbelief. “What the -?”

Daisy shoves Ward down into a chair and produces an envelope out of her jacket. “This is a handwritten and signed confession,” she tells the detective behind the desk, handing it over to her.

Ward is looking wildly around the precinct, and Fitz draws in a sharp breath when Ward’s eyes meet his from across the room.

“Are you kidding me, Fitz?!” Ward yells, jumping to his feet. Jemma’s hand flies out to meet Fitz’s chest and she steps in front of him protectively. “You have an actual genie! You could have wished for her to fix you instead of actively ruining my life!”

“He doesn’t need to be fixed.” Jemma says fiercely. “There’s nothing wrong with him.” Fitz turns to look at her in surprise.

Daisy pushes down on Ward’s shoulder so that he falls back into his seat. He glares at her. “Did you put him up to this?” he demands. “To get back at me?”

Daisy rolls her eyes. “You know, at some point you’re going to have to stop thinking of yourself as a victim. If you can’t be around other people without hurting them, then you don’t get to be around other people. That’s how this works.” With that, she disappears.

Jemma turns to look at Fitz with alarm. “What do we -” She stops talking when they find themselves back in their apartment. Daisy’s sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce on their armchair. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Jemma complains. “It’s quite disorienting.”

Fitz sits on the couch. “I got the impression that this was not your first time interacting with Ward.”

Daisy folds her arms over her chest. “He owned the lamp for a while.” She looks down at her lap. “He wished for a lot of things I didn’t really want to grant.”

Jemma sits down next to Fitz, her thigh touching his even though there’s lots of space for her to sit on the other end of the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks Daisy gently.

Daisy shrugs, still refusing to meet their eyes. “Not really.” She sighs heavily. “I think I just want to be alone for a while, actually.” She disappears and her lamp flickers on.

Jemma turns to look at Fitz. “It must be pretty bad if she’s willingly going back into her lamp.”

Fitz doesn’t even have the capacity to think about what’s going on with Daisy - he’s still struggling to catch up with the events of the last 20 minutes. Fitz takes Jemma’s hand and squeezes it. “Thanks.”

Jemma raises her eyebrows. “For what?”

Fitz doesn’t quite know either. All he knows is that he’s profoundly grateful that he gets to face everything with Jemma next to him rather than alone. “For being by my side.”

Jemma gives him a fond smile and squeezes his hand back. “Where else would I be?”

\------

“Okay, what about now?” Fitz asks Daisy while Jemma’s in the shower.

Daisy furrows her brow as she focuses far too intently on digging a spoonful of ice cream out of its carton. “What about now?”

“That thing I tried to wish for the first time? About whether anyone loves me? Can I use it for my second wish?”

Daisy shoots him an unimpressed look. “Anyone? Really? As if you care about anyone besides -”

“Jemma!” Fitz interrupts, as Jemma emerges from the bathroom in her robe.

Jemma stops in her tracks. “Yes?”

“Uh, nothing. It’s nothing,” Fitz stammers. “Uh, how was your shower?”

“It was fine?” she says slowly, squinting at Fitz and Daisy. “Everything alright?”

“Yup,” Daisy grins. “Fitz just wanted to see if my powers could extend to making sure water always runs at the perfect temperature.”

“Oh!” Jemma looks up at the ceiling in thought. “I suppose the temperature did fluctuate a bit, but it didn’t bother me.”

“Great! Thanks for the feedback,” Daisy calls out as Jemma disappears into her bedroom. She turns to glare at Fitz. “I told you I wasn’t going to let you waste a wish on that.”

“You told me you wouldn’t let me waste my first wish on that,” Fitz corrected her.

Daisy rolls her eyes. “Like I said, wishes aren’t retroactive.” She shoves her ice cream in her mouth, apparently deciding to take out her frustration on it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Daisy pulls her spoon out of her mouth and points it at Fitz, “It means you already know someone loves you.”

“Do I, though?”

“You’re pathetic,” Daisy informs him.

“Well, forgive me for wanting to be 100% certain before I go and ruin my relationship with my best friend.”

“Like I said. Pathetic.”

\-----

It’s not that Fitz is opposed to money. Money is nice. Money is good.

It just feels so _selfish_. And besides, the money has to come from somewhere, or else previously non-existent currency will be added into circulation and will probably crash the economy. Even if Fitz wishes for a winning lottery ticket, he’d probably be taking the winnings away from whoever would win it if Daisy hadn’t fixed it in his favor. There’s definitely a lot of people out there who actually need the money.

And Fitz isn’t rich, but he’s not poor either. He’s doing okay for himself. It’s not like it was when he was little, when his dad first walked out on him and his mum, when they were just scraping by. He earns a decent paycheck now, sends some of it to his mum to make sure she’s comfortable, lives in a nice apartment with his best friend, flies across the pond to visit his mum when he can. It’s a nice life.

So Fitz doesn’t really know what to wish for - at least nothing that wouldn’t accidentally fuck up the whole world.

“What do people usually wish for?” he asks Daisy. It’s been six months at this point, and Daisy has slowly been making upgrades to their flat that has rendered it practically unrecognizable. They have granite countertops in the kitchen, a state-of-the-art entertainment system, and one of those Japanese toilets that shoots out warm water at their asses after they take a shit. It’s all stuff that Fitz could’ve wished for if the thought had even crossed his mind.

Daisy shrugs as best she can while keeping up with playing Just Dance. “A lot of them wish to lose weight. Or to have more muscles. Or a bigger penis.”

Jemma drops her Wii controller and scrambles to pick it up. Daisy snorts at her. “Whatever,” Jemma mutters. “I’m still beating you.”

“A few of them wanted to be famous, but they didn’t ask for a specific talent, you know?” Daisy continues. “So they ended up being like, Internet famous. Like, a video of them goes viral and then they get to go on Ellen. Or they get their own reality show or something. I’m pretty much responsible for Bravo’s continued existence.”

Fitz wrinkles his nose. “I don’t understand why anyone would want to be famous.”

Jemma accidentally bumps into Daisy, and Daisy pushes her away. “Constant validation?”

“Then why not just wish for constant validation?”

Daisy grins. “Because then they get sick of me following them around and continuously telling them they’re the hottest and the smartest and the best at everything and have the biggest penis.”

“I’m sensing a theme here,” Jemma observes, her voice dry.

“Is the theme that guys are insecure about their penises?” Daisy asks brightly. “Is that supposed to be news?”

Fitz groans. “Okay, can we be done discussing penises now?” He stands and starts to shuffle towards his room. “I’ll think of a non-penis-related wish, okay? Jesus.”

“You can wish for me to never have to shave my legs again,” Jemma suggests.

Daisy makes a noise of disapproval. “You don’t want to make that wish if you want to keep your legs.”

Jemma wrinkles her nose. “Oh.” She looks at Fitz with sympathy. “This is hard.”

“That’s what she said!” Daisy exclaims. She holds out her open palm towards Jemma. “Up top!”

Jemma just looks at her, unimpressed.

“Get it?” Daisy prompts. “Because penises?” She looks at Fitz, who just crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. “Come on, guys!” Daisy complains. “I’ve missed a decade of ‘that’s what she said’ jokes! Just give me a win.”

“You have definitely been around for the past decade,” Jemma reminds her.

“Yeah, but my previous masters didn’t let me make fun of them or watch tv all day,” Daisy pouts.

And that’s what it takes for everything to shift into place. “Wait,” Fitz realizes. “Is that why you’ve been vetoing all my wishes?”

Daisy avoids Fitz’s gaze. “You’re not making any sense. Do you want in on this next one?” Another controller appears in Fitz’s hand.

“Daisy, do you not want me to set you free?” Fitz asks, incredulous.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Fitz,” Jemma scoffs. “Of course Daisy wants to be set free.”

Daisy shrugs with forced indifference. “I mean, freedom would be cool, I guess. But I don’t mind staying here, you know. It’s not that bad.”

It’s clear Daisy doesn’t want to talk about it, but Fitz and Jemma exchange looks that make it clear that it’s a topic that will be picked up again on another day.

\-----

As far as ideas go, it’s a pretty bad one, but it’s one that has the potential to solve both Daisy’s inability to just even (as evidenced by Daisy floating above the couch, limbs hanging limply beneath her, repeatedly groaning “I just can’t even.”) and Fitz’s general inability to relationship.

“I wish for the courage to tell Jemma that I’m in love with her.”

Daisy perks up at that and lowers herself to the ground. “Oh, Fitz. You’re the best!” she enthuses, reaching over to pinch Fitz’s cheek.

Fitz swats her hand away. “And why’s that?”

Daisy grins at him, delighted. “You didn’t give me a timeline. Which means that I get to choose when and where it happens.”

Fitz’s eyes widen. “I meant courage as in, like, a general sustained feeling of optimism. Not for you to puppeteer an actual love confession.”

“Too late!” Daisy actually does a little clap and hop, which is disconcerting because she’s way too giddy for someone who’s dressed like she raided the bargain bin at Hot Topic. “This is going to be so fun.”

\-----

In hindsight, Fitz definitely should have been suspicious when Daisy roped him into being her taste-tester in her sudden aspiration to be the Bertie Botts of vodka. But it’s Friday, and work was awful, and Jemma’s out getting coffee with Milton because he’s in town for a conference, which, why did she even need to stay friends with him after they broke up? Milton’s the _worst_.

“Okay, the birthday cake one is good, but I can’t taste the sprinkles,” Fitz slurs, pushing his empty plastic cup across the coffee table towards Daisy.

Daisy rolls her eyes. “Sprinkles don’t even have a taste.”

“They do,” Fitz insists. “They taste like happiness and rainbows.”

“See, all you have to do is capture the taste of light refracting through water droplets,” Jemma jokes.

Fitz does a double take. “Jemma? When did you get here?”

Daisy squints at Fitz. “Holy shit, you’re way drunker than I thought. She’s been sitting next to you on the couch for like an hour.”

Fitz turns to inspect Jemma, who’s suppressing an amused smile. “Don’t get back together with Milton,” he pleads. “He’s the worst.”

“That’s the third time you’ve said that since she got home,” Daisy informs him.

“God, I love you.” Fitz leans against Jemma, burying his face against her shoulder.

If Jemma is shocked, she doesn’t show it. She just sort of pats his back and murmurs, “Oh, Fitz. I know.”

“Okay, but I mean like in a super romantic way,” Fitz clarifies.

“She knows that too - it’s also the third time you’ve said that tonight,” Daisy says, somehow sounding both amused and exasperated.

“Daisy,” Jemma warns.

Daisy rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine - I’m leaving.” She disappears into thin air because God forbid she should ever actually use her feet to walk anywhere,

Fitz sprawls across the sofa and lies down with his head in Jemma’s lap. “I want to marry you and have your babies.”

He can practically hear the smile in Jemma’s voice. “That might be difficult. You’d have to use your second wish on a uterus.”

“I can’t. I already used it.”

“On what?” Jemma starts petting his head and Fitz doesn’t believe in heaven, but he imagines that this is what it would feel like.

“I wished for the courage to tell you how I feel.”

Jemma’s silent for a moment, considering. “So you basically wished for Daisy to get you plastered.”

Fitz frowns. “No.”

“I could’ve done that without any magical powers.” Jemma switches over to scratching his scalp. Fitz leans into her touch, like a puppy starving for affection. “Remember your 21st birthday? I mean, we’d been legal at home for years, but you wanted a proper American celebration.”

“I didn’t wish for booze, I wished for courage,” Fitz repeats stubbornly. “So I could tell you how I love you.”

“So, liquid courage.”

Fitz frowns. “You should’ve gotten the lamp. I’m no good at wishes.”

Jemma leans down and plants a quick kiss on his forehead. “I don’t know. I think you’re doing okay.”

\-----

All things considered, Fitz’s hangover isn’t terrible. He almost wish it were, so he would have something to distract him from the stale aftertaste of regret in his mouth. (“Regret” being the combination of banana bread flavored vodka and caramel coconut Kahlua that Daisy made him try.)

But the scent of bacon is wafting into his room, which makes him feel generally optimistic. Jemma wouldn’t be making bacon if she were planning on moving out.

Jemma’s smile when Fitz walks out of his room is so bright and warm, it feels like basking in actual sunshine. “Good morning Fitz. How are you feeling?”

“Mostly embarrassed,” Fitz admits, sliding onto a barstool. He props his elbows on the kitchen counter and buries his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

Jemma turns to face him, frowning in concern. “What are you sorry for?”

“For vomiting my feelings on you.” Fitz pauses. “And also, for vomiting my vomit on you.”

Jemma smiles softly at him. “The vomit only hit my feet - Daisy cleaned it right up. The benefits of having a genie.” Jemma turns back around to prod at the eggs in her frying pan. “The part about your feelings, though. I, uh...I didn’t mind it. It was fine.”

Fitz studies the back of her head. “It was fine?” he repeats.

“Go wash up, Fitz,” Jemma orders him, only sounding marginally exasperated. “You smell like death.”

It’s not like ‘It was fine’ sounds especially promising, but Fitz still feels hopeful that Jemma is making him brush his teeth because there might be kissing involved in their immediate future.

When Fitz returns to his seat at the kitchen counter, there’s a plate waiting for him with toast, bacon, and over-medium eggs. Jemma’s perched on the seat next to his, halfway through her own breakfast.

“Thanks for breakfast,” Fitz tells her. “You’re too nice to me.”

Jemma tilts her head, studying him. “You know I love you too, right?”

Fitz ducks his head. “I mean. Yeah. But -”

“In a super romantic way,” she adds teasingly.

Fitz figures that’s as clear a signal that he’s ever going to get, so he reaches over to slide his hand into her hair and presses his lips to hers. He can feel Jemma smiling against his lips as she kisses him back.

“I can’t believe you were afraid to tell me,” Jemma says fondly when he pulls back. “There were so many other ways to use that wish.”

“Like what?” Fitz challenges.

“Lifetime passes to Disneyland.”

“Okay, but once we’re there, food still costs a fortune,” Fitz points out.

“Lifetime passes to the science museum.”

“We get free annual passes through work.”

“Lifetime backstage passes to the monkey habitat at the zoo.”

That one does sound pretty cool, but Fitz is too stubborn to tell her so. “So what I’m hearing you say is that you’re planning to spend a lifetime with me,” he teases.

Jemma leans forward to kiss him again. “Yeah. That’s the plan.”

\-----

“Personally, I would have gone with Hamilton tickets,” Daisy says from the kitchen. She’s slicing bananas for her peanut butter and banana sandwich, even though she’s perfectly capable of producing one out of thin air.

“He’s not my founding father,” Fitz points out. He and Jemma are watching weird Pixar knockoffs on Netflix, and it’s the same as any other night except for that his arm is around her shoulders and Jemma’s snuggled into his side. He has zero regrets with how he used his wish.

“Aw, Fitz. Are you still so bitter about losing the Revolutionary War that you have to pretend you don’t care about seeing award-winning, critically-acclaimed musicals?” Daisy teases.

“Bitter? Definitely not. I mean, Trump is president now, so it definitely worked out better for us than it did for you,” Fitz shoots back without looking away from the television. “I’m sure if any of you wanted to come back and admit this whole thing was a failed experiment, the Queen will welcome you back with open arms.”

“Are we pretending that Brexit didn’t happen?” Daisy asks. “Is that a thing?”

“Daisy, just because you don’t live on the couch anymore doesn’t mean you can’t hang out in the living room anymore,” Jemma cuts in. “You’re more than welcome to join us. We’re only ten minutes into My Friend the Rat Chef.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Daisy says, carrying her plate back to Jemma’s former bedroom, which became her bedroom when Jemma moved into Fitz’s bedroom. “Besides, you guys are being all nauseating and cute.” She says it like she found gum under her shoe, but she’s totally smiling.

Jemma rolls her eyes. “Don’t act like you didn’t want this to happen.”

“It really should’ve happened without my interference, but you two are surprisingly dense.” Daisy pauses in the doorway. “Speaking of dense, I made the wall between our rooms thicker. And soundproof. You’re welcome.”

Fitz squints at Daisy. “I can’t tell whether you want us to thank you or apologize.”

Daisy opens her mouth, then closes it again. “You know what? Both. Definitely both.”

“Thank you, Daisy,” Fitz says obligingly. He tightens his arm around Jemma. “But I’m not even a little bit sorry.”

 


	2. A Short Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because someone requested a follow-up with genie!Daisy babysitting the Ftzsimmons progeny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has zero plot and was too short to be its own fic, so I just tacked it on to this one.

In hindsight, Jemma should have known better.

It’s just that leaving her children in the care of a literal genie, who also happens to be her best friend (besides Fitz, of course, but husbands don’t count), made a certain kind of sense. Daisy is well-equipped to keep Marie and Ben safe from any emergency that may arise.

Of course, Jemma didn’t consider that Daisy might be keeping them safe from emergencies of her own making.

“Um, why is there a fire-breathing dragon in our house?” Fitz asks.

“Well, obviously, we couldn’t play with Doris outside,” Marie explains patiently, copying the measured, logical tone of voice Jemma uses to remind Marie that she needs to finish eating before she can play outside. “The neighbor's might’ve called the police.” She doesn’t even bothering to look at Fitz and Jemma as she readies her baseball bat over her shoulder. Ben, from his perch on Doris’s neck, tickles Doris’s nose, causing her to shoot out a fireball in Marie’s direction.

Jemma and Fitz both start forward at the same time, ready to push Marie out of the way, but Marie swings the bat and hits the fireball back into Doris’s mouth.

“Home run!” Ben and Daisy cheer, throwing their arms in the air. Doris bobs her head excitedly.

Fitz and Jemma exchange glances. “Daisy, can we speak to you in the kitchen?” Fitz asks, his voice terse.

“Sure,” Daisy says cheerfully, apparently too busy celebrating to notice Fitz and Jemma’s state of mild panic.

Fitz and Jemma both cross their arms over their chest once they’re in the kitchen. Daisy raises her eyebrows. “Oh,” she realizes. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“You...they...that game is way too dangerous!” Jemma sputters.

Daisy holds out her hands protectively. “First of all, I made everything flame retardant, including the children.”

“That’s besides the point!”

“And secondly, Ben is the one who requested we play Dragonball Z! How was I supposed to know that he meant playing it on Netflix?”

“You’re the adult, Daisy! You’re allowed to say no!” Jemma shouts. “How on earth did you even survive to 400?”

“I’m 389!” Daisy protests. “That’s like, twelve in genie years! And it’s your fault!”

“What?!” The word comes out sharp and incredulous. “How, exactly, is it our fault?!”

“They have Fitz’s puppy eyes and your pout! How am I supposed to say no to that?”

Fitz clears his throat. “I feel like we’re ignoring the elephant in the room.” Jemma turns to see that he’s staring at where their granite island used to be.

“Oh, Harvey?” Daisy asks, as though she’s just noticed there’s a literal elephant in the room. “He’s technically a Pygmy elephant. Also, he prefers to be ignored. He’s very self-conscious.”

Fitz pinches the bridge of his nose. “Daisy…”

“Okay, I feel like you guys are just repeating my name a lot,” Daisy observes, looking between Jemma and Fitz. “So how about this?”

Two chairs fly out from under the kitchen table and swerve behind Jemma and Fitz, careening into their legs and causing them to fall back into the seats. The chairs push Jemma and Fitz back to the table, where two cups of tea appear in front of them.

“Just relax,” Daisy urges. “Have a cuppa. I’ll just clean everything up and get dinner ready.” She disappears into thin air, and a moment later, her voice is floating out of the living room.

Jemma and Fitz look at each other, then turn to look at Harvey. “You think she forgot he’s here?” Fitz asks.

Jemma sighs and props her chin in her hand. “Oh, definitely.”

\-----

“You’re not mad at Aunt Daisy, are you?” Marie asks later that night, as Jemma tucks her into bed.

“No, I’m not mad,” Jemma says patiently as she attempts to wrangle the sheets over Marie’s still-squirming body.

“Just disappointed,” Marie says knowingly, echoing what Jemma and Fitz tell her whenever she makes a poor choice.

Jemma doesn’t respond.

“She did clean everything up,” Marie reminds Jemma.

“Yes, I know.”

“And she made dinner. With vegetables.”

Jemma rolls her eyes. “She made dinner appear. I don’t know if that should really count as making dinner.”

Marie watches as Jemma stands and walks to the doorway. “When is she going to babysit us again?” Marie asks.

Jemma turns off the light. “We’ll see.”

\--------

“Two Fridays from now?” Daisy repeats excitedly, her whole face lighting up with her grin. “Yeah, I’m definitely free!”

“But no fire,” Fitz says sternly.

“Or mythical creatures,” Jemma adds.

“Or zoo animals.”

“Even miniature ones.”

Daisy nods. “Absolutely. I’ve learned my lesson.”

\-----

Two Fridays later, after being greeted home with snowballs in their faces, Jemma and Fitz sit Daisy down for another talk.

“But no snow indoors.”

“No weather in general indoors.”

“Or miniaturizing the kids so they can ride on birds.”

“Is it because the birds might eat them?” Daisy asks. “What if we ride on drones next time instead?”

“No drones!”

“Or tornadoes indoors.”

“I think that’s covered by no weather indoors.”

“Anytime Ben says he wants to play something, just assume it’s a movie or a board game.”

“Because Twister is definitely a board game that does not necessitate tornadoes.”

“And on the topic of board games, no Jumanji.”

Daisy perks up. “Ooh, what’s Jumanji? That sounds fun!”

“You’re just giving her ideas, Fitz! Daisy, do not even look up Jumanji.”

Daisy folds her arms and slumps back into the couch cushions, pouting. “You guys are no fun. Remember when you used to let me fill our old apartment with puppies?”

Fitz and Jemma exchange a look. Fitz shrugs. “Puppies are acceptable,” Jemma sighs.

And three Saturdays later, when Jemma and Fitz return to find their home filled with puppies, two laughing children, and their best friend, they think they have the best family they could possibly wish for.

 


End file.
